One in the Eye, One in the Heart
by Meilan Firaga
Summary: Started as a one-shot based on a prompt, but has somehow evolved into an ongoing. Slade's started to be haunted as the final days of his campaign against Oliver Queen approach, but Shado isn't the one doing the haunting. Felicity Smoak / Slade Wilson (or Deathsmoak if you're one of the cool kids :p).
1. An Eye for An Eye

This ship popped out of nowhere and now my brain won't let it go. The title could be far more creative, but my brain was less worried about that than the accompanying plot bunny. I haven't hammered a fic out as quickly as I did this one in a very long time. I, sadly, have no legal rights to Arrow or the characters. Blah blah fanfiction is free blah blah fanfiction is for fun blah blah people should get over it blah. Incoming lawsuits will be laughed out of court.

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**Part One: An Eye for An Eye**

"You know, I told Oliver a long time ago that murder isn't the only way to handle things."

She shouldn't be in his office. He shouldn't be in his office. He'd left the Russian in his desk chair with a very telling bolt in his head. Yet, there he is, sitting in that same desk chair with his back to the door. Turning the chair around with one foot finds him face to face with Oliver Queen's bespectacled "assistant."

"I mean, murder is great and all if you're okay with having that much blood on your hands, which you obviously are, and I definitely felt the urge the make a few customers stop breathing back in my call center days, but when it comes down to accomplishing a goal there are totally better ways to go about it than murder." Felicity Smoak sauntered forward as she rambled, coming to a halt only once she had perched herself atop the desk across from him. Her flowing skirt and pink cardigan were entirely too sweet, too innocent for the thoughts that ravaged his mind with the sway of her hips. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

_No,_ his mind insisted. "What are you doing here?" his mouth demanded instead. His voice was gruff, but not nearly so dangerous as he'd intended it to sound.

The blonde heaved a heavy, dramatic sigh, a tendril of hair escaping from her ponytail as she examined her pastel yellow fingernails. "What is it with you tortured soul island dwelling males that means you have to have the simplest things explained to you?" She spun to face him on the desktop-strangely devoid of lamps and other trinkets she could have knocked to the floor-tucking entirely too tempting legs beneath her skirt as she moved. "Clearly, I'm here because no one has had the 'murder isn't always a necessity' talk with you. Bad people do bad things. People are human and make mistakes. If all you keep doing is killing them for it, the only thing you'll end up being is alone." Slade's eyebrows furrowed. Either she wasn't making sense or he was still not following. However, before he could comment she babbled on. "I mean, I know people say that 'revenge is a dish best served cold' and all of that, but five years later is kind of pushing it into 'revenge is a dish being dragged from the back of the freezer' territory. You know what I think?" She paused, almost like she was actually going to wait for him to put in a comment of his own, but the radiant smile that crossed her face stunned him to silence. "I think that revenge goes best when it can be picked up whenever. Like all the dishes at one of those great buffet restaurants where you can get as many plates and go back as many times as you want."

There was a sharp tug on his hair and before he realized what she'd done his own eyepatch was swinging from her fingers in front of his face. "It's only half about Shado, right?" she said, almost mockingly. "The rest is this. An eye for an eye." Anger welled up inside of him, his fists tightening on the edge of the desk, but she didn't pause long enough for his protest. "Oliver acted on instinct to save a woman he felt he'd already condemned to death out of his own selfishness. Another woman died as a result, and because he didn't tell you the truth you think he has to die for it. Never mind that grief or guilt or both was probably why he didn't tell you in the first place." She snorted, tossing the eyepatch over his shoulder. "Poor Slade. He lost a loved one, got another scar added to the many he's collected, and got his feelings hurt by his little brother."

His heart felt as though it was going to hammer out of his chest. His breath was short and shallow. Blurring shapes creeped along the edges of his vision until all he could see was her face. The eyes behind her thick glasses never left his own. A pair of soft pink lips refused to stop spitting out the very thoughts that plagued him in his weakest moments.

"I mean, I get how seriously it must have hurt. I've been on the receiving end of Oliver's 'my angst is too much for you so I have to bottle it up inside and never cop to it until you catch me' actions myself. Which is one of the reasons why I'm pretty much in a constant state of annoyance with him." Her intense gaze finally broke from his, her head tilting to the side. "Well, that and his inability to keep the focus on only one woman. Do you have any idea how many loves of his life Oliver has had since he first came back from the island?" Eyes finding his again, she smacked herself in the forehead. "Of course you do. The stalking goes with that whole vengeance thing. I got off track.

Suddenly Slade realized that she was much closer. She'd slid across the entire surface of his desk, her feet now swinging on either side of his knees. He swallowed a lump in his throat as the brush of her skirt against his slacks sent a shiver down his spine. Finally finding his voice again, he pushed back on his chair and stood, determined to ignore that this brought him to stand between her thighs. "Why are you here, Miss Smoak?" he growled, staring down at her.

"Well, I'm your eye." Felicity shook her head, looking as though she might be a hair's breadth from smacking herself again. "Not, you know, in the literal sense seeing as how you've only got one of those and I definitely wasn't born from the one Oliver shot since I'm way older than five and that is not how this was supposed to go." With another shake of her head she took a deep breath, locked her hands around the lapels of his jacket, gathered her feet beneath her once more, and rose on her knees until she was level with his face. Her hands slid over his shoulders, not holding him, but dangling over his back as though they might at any moment. "When someone you love dies, the best thing you can do is live. Live for them and all the things they'll never do. Live for you and all the things you could have done with them. The best revenge is even to leave a better, happier life than the person you're looking to get back at."

All at onec her arms attached themselves to his back, the full length of her tiny torso pressed against his broad chest. Of their own volition his hands went to her back, one sliding across her waist while the other traveled between her shoulder blades. Her hair smelled of apples. His eye slid closed and Slade Wilson, for the first time since Shado's death, allowed himself to feel like someone could care. When Felicity spoke again, her voice brushed across his earlobe. "You lost an eye. I'm the eye you could get in return. There's always another way." A quiet snort escaped from her mouth, warm air rushing over his throat. "You know, if you stop being an ass and trying to kill my friends. You're good at it, but I bet I could find a better use of your time."

Slade shot up in bed, coming awake all at one. His eye darted wildly around the dim room he rented in Starling City. He was alone. Sweat crawled along his body despite the chill in the air. A dream. Nothing more. And yet... he sniffed the air. He stood and prowled the room. No one had come in or gone out. He was sure of it.

The scent of apples still lingered.

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Felicity's babbling is really fun to write. That is all.


	2. Just Call Me Jiminy

I really wasn't planning for this to be more than a one shot, but a handful of comments between here and apparently shoved my brain in gear. I have no idea how long this will end up being, but I do like where it's going. :) Enjoy!

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**Part Two: Just Call Me Jiminy **

Taking Thea Queen was logical. The most important person to Oliver who didn't know his secret? It was obvious. The fact that no one seemed to expect it was, frankly, insulting. The Huntress had provided the perfect distraction, and they'd actually let the youngest Queen wander off on her own. In the Glades. At night. He would have to remember to send Miss Bertinelli a lovely little prison gift. Perhaps in the form of a jailbreak, even. Offer the young girl a ride, listen as she rants about her boyfriend, offer her a handkerchief when the tears start. Dosing a handkerchief was a stroke of brilliance, if he did say so himself.

"God, you're a jerk. I mean, I'm a nice Jewish girl who occasionally sneaks bacon which is kind of jerk-like, but you are behaving like a serious jerk."

Make logical choices and life will give you a perfectly illogical response meant to drive you mad.

"The girl is nineteen. She's not much younger than Shado was. Actually, I'm not sure I want to think about that. That almost makes you kind of creepy in this whole 'kill people for the woman I loved' quest you've set yourself out on."

Slade was not going to look. If he looked, things were going to fall apart. Things needed to stay pieced together-at least while he still had a kidnapped Thea Queen unconscious in the passenger seat of his car. Speaking of, a sports car of this caliber certainly did not have a spacious backseat. Any backseat passengers would have to be horribly cramped.

"Your son isn't a teenager, is he? Because, you know, that would add a whole new level of creep to this whole thing." Her voice was perky to an almost musical degree. Keeping his eyes glued to the road, Slade reached one hand to his opposite arm and pinched hard. "You know, everyone always says 'pinch me, I'm dreaming' like it's actually going to help, but have you noticed that you never think to pinch yourself when you really are dreaming? It's like one of those weird urban myths that no one knows how it got started."

"You're not real," Slade growled, determinedly not looking in his rear view mirror. "If I'm awake, you're a hallucination."

"Yes, because hallucinating me is so much better." She snorted and in the time it took him to blink the sensation of her breath across his throat in the dream came rushing back. "I could actually be here, you know. You're not exactly subtle with the big shiny sports car thing going on. I might have just slipped into the back while you weren't looking."

He couldn't take it. He looked. Felicity Smoak's face gave him a pointed look in his rear view mirror, one eyebrow quirked over the frame of her glasses. Momentarily surprised, he whipped his head around. The backseat was empty. Slade slammed on the brakes with barely enough time to stop at the next red light, one hand lashing out to prevent Thea from slamming into the dash. When he looked back up in the mirror her face was there again with a quirky half smile.

"Okay, so I lied. I am a hallucination. Hallucinating really can't be good for your health. When it happens without drugs it's supposed to mean that your brain is trying to tell you something that you're refusing to acknowledge. Of course I suppose since you're chock full of Mirakuru it could technically be drugs but given that you've had it in your system for years I'm going to go with the idea that something in your subconscious is talking to you." She paused, and Slade glanced up to watch her eyes go wide and an excited expression overtake her features. "Ooh! Maybe it's like one of those old fortune telling machines in the seedy pizza joints. Slade! Zoltar's talking to you!"

He ground his teeth, reminding himself tightly that he was in the process of kidnapping his arch nemesis' younger sister. "Why are you here, Miss Smoak?" Her comparison of his subconscious to a game meant to wrench quarters from the naive was _not_ adorable. Not in the least.

"I came to ask you to go see the new Kevin Costner movie with me this Friday. There will be explosions and guns and killing people. You'll love it. Seriously, why the hell do you think I'm here? You're kidnapping an innocent young girl after I specifically told you that there are better ways to go about this whole vengeance thing."

"You never told me anything," Slade insisted, taking a hard right turn that caused his victim to jostle about in her sleep. He leaned over, one hand still on the wheel, and strapped Thea's seatbelt over her body, the latch clicking into place. "You were nothing more than a dream."

Pressure crossed his shoulders, and a glance in the rear view mirror showed the young blonde leaning up to wrap her arms around him, her face inches from his own. "Yes, because nothing more than a dream haunts you for days and starts showing up when you're awake." She sighed, a heavy one of exasperation. "Part of you knows that you don't want to do this, Slade. I told you before that there are other ways. Do you really think I'd be here if you were still completely hell bent on seeing this through?" In the mirror image Felicity closed her eyes, and he could swear that he felt the brush of her hair against his collar. The scent of apples was nearly overwhelming. "The stuff you dosed that poor girl with has a nice little forgetful property. When she wakes up she could easily be convinced that she just fell asleep on the drive."

A ghost of lips pressed against his cheek just beneath the eyepatch. "It's all about alternatives. You have them. Until you make up your mind, just call me Jiminy Cricket." All of a sudden the pressure was lifted. When Slade looked into the mirror again, she was gone. He drove on through the streets of Starling City, mind busy. A dream was one thing, but he could actually smell apple shampoo on the shoulder of his suit, and he certainly hadn't been asleep for this. Maybe he really was going crazy. He rolled the car to a halt, careful to put it in park and pull the emergency break before he cut the engine. Standing from the driver's seat, he made his way around, unlatched Thea's seatbelt, and lifted the young girl effortlessly into his arms. She barely stirred, only turning further into his shoulder.

The front door opened suddenly and Moira Queen came rushing out, the look on her face frantic as she called her daughter's name. Slade turned toward her, walking slowly and raising one hand beneath Thea's knee. "She's alright, Mrs. Queen," he assured her. "I offered her a ride, and I think she may have been a bit knackered." He looked down at Thea, suddenly struck with how small she was. She wasn't small like Shado had been. She was delicate, like a young woman whose hardships and been much less physical.

Like Felicity.

Moira was talking at him, babbling the eloquent thanks of a mother who'd practiced too often what to say to cops for bringing her errant children home from something they shouldn't have been doing. He shook his head to wave her off, continuing toward the door at a slower pace so she could keep up. "It was no trouble. I don't like the thought of a young woman walking alone at night in certain parts of this town." Well, he'd been counting on it, but she didn't need to know that. Moira led him into the house and up the Thea's room while he controlled his pace and pretended not to know the way. He settled the girl in her bed, politely declined the offer of a nightcap, and was back in his car as quickly as possible.

Someone would tell Oliver Queen that he'd had the perfect opportunity to take Thea. It wouldn't take more than a day before he knew that his little sister trusted Slade enough to get in a car with him in the dead of night. That would certainly put the kid on edge. That could be enough for now. There were no faces in the rear view mirror as he drove back to his rented rooms, but a brief electrical short switched his radio on. The song was soft and sweet, a tale of things willingly given up for love.

Without warning, a vision of blonde curls danced across his mind, and-quite unexpectly-Slade Wilson smiled.


	3. Team Stompy-Hate-Revenge

**Part Three - Team Stompy-Hate-Revenge**

It could quite easily be classified as the most idiotic thing he'd ever done, but Friday night found Slade Wilson at a tiny cinema in the Glades. He mentally kicked himself even as he bought a ticket for the only action movie they were showing, then spent his moments in the refreshment line silently cursing the recent insanity of his brain. Not only had it been a hallucinated Felicity Smoak who asked him here, but the hallucination had even meant it sarcastically. Yet, there he stood, being bullied into purchasing an overpriced box of chocolate candy along with his overpriced cola. Since when did a dangerous mercenary like himself give in to the sales rhetoric of a bored teenager?

His one comfort lay in the fact that this was easily the least active theater in Starling City. Its online reviews were terrible, and he was honestly amazed that it was even in business. Despite the prime date night hour, there was barely a soul in the place. Actually, the few patrons in the less than appealing lobby looked to be there on some sort of suspicious business rather than to watch a movie. Needless to say, he was not likely to encounter anyone that might think he was ready for a fight on this night.

The hallway to theater three was short, and he was inside the door waiting for his eye to adjust to the dim lighting in no time. One good thing about losing an eye was that the light adjustment actually took less time. When he could see again, his gaze immediately latched onto to something that hit him like a punch in the gut.

Three rows from where he stood, dead center, and the only other person in the theater. Blonde curls trailing from a ponytail that he wouldn't have recognized before she started showing up in his brain. Slade closed his eyes and counted to ten. Willed the hallucination away. Opened them again.

Felicity was still there.

Something was different this time. She should be berating him. Rambling at him. Anything. Instead, she appeared to be completely oblivious to his presence, simultaneously playing some sort of game on her phone and munching from a large bucket of popcorn. He approached cautiously, expecting her to either disappear or start babbling at any moment. When he stood barely a foot away he smirked down at her.

"Never was much for popcorn," he mused.

It was only due to his Mirakuru enhanced reflexes that he caught her popcorn tub before it hit the floor. Her phone was less lucky. It smacked into the carpet and disappeared beneath the row in front of them. Felicity stared up at him in wide-eyed horror, and Slade realized in one very uncomfortable moment that he had somehow managed to encounter the real life Felicity Smoak rather than his personal mental vision of her. He cleared his throat, careful to move extra slowly as he bent forward and placed the bucket of popcorn back in her lap.

"I assure you, Miss Smoak," he began, "that I am only here for the film. I have no desire to harm you or to end up in a confrontation with your employer." Even to his own ears the words didn't feel the least bit reassuring. Figuring that he probably couldn't make the situation much worse without murder or kidnapping, Slade eased himself down into the seat beside her and sipped his soda, determinedly focusing his eye on the boring pre-film reels that were currently showing. Slowly, Felicity came back to herself, bending forward to retrieve her phone. He was sure that this would be the moment when she would alert her friends. The fight was probably going to end up destroying the entire theater. To his surprise, she slipped the phone into the purse hanging from her armrest, slumping back into her seat, and clutching the bucket of popcorn to her chest.

"Of all the crappy theaters," she grumbled, almost low enough to keep him from hearing, "in all the vigilante-protected cities, in all the world the raving psycho with a grudge walks into mine." She had a petulant tone that Slade was trying very hard not to think of as cute. "Even picked the same damn movie and of course there's no one else here because I have the worst luck in the world and even if I made a call no one would make it here before he killed me and I had really hoped that I was going to die in a much cooler manner than in a movie theater..."

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and leaned just enough toward her that he could respond in a low whisper. "There are thousands of people in this city. You are the one that I least want to die." Through his very limited peripheral he watched as she turned her head and openly gaped at him.

"That doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed, loudly, after several long moments. "I am so Team Oliver that Twilight fans are getting angry I stole the whole team thing and you are definitely on the opposing Team Stompy-Hate-Revenge. I cannot possibly be the one you'd choose to not have die."

Slade leaned down toward her again as the house lights dimmed. "Hush now," he whispered, giving her an exaggerated smirk. "The previews are starting. And with all due respect, Miss Smoak, the only things you know about me are those that you've either dug up on your computer or that you've been told by Oliver or Sara." She was silent through the entire first preview, though she'd gone from staring at him to frowning into her popcorn, lips pursed in thought. Midway through the second preview she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, and the next words she spoke were whispered directly into his ear.

"So, why this movie? I mean, not that you can't like whatever movies you want or go to whatever theaters you want, though I think the people who know about your murder-y side might think differently, but why did you pick where and what I was seeing?"

Since she'd taken the liberty of getting closer to whisper, he did the same, brushing a few strands of her ponytail over her shoulder. "Honestly? I came here because it's the least popular cinema in Starling. I picked the film... well, let's just say that a little bird recommended it to me." He'd almost pulled back when he had an idea, and he very nearly knocked his forehead against hers in his haste to see it through. "I don't suppose you like chocolate?" he asked, lifting the box-still wrapped in plastic-that he'd purchased for her to see. "The harpy at the front hounded me into purchasing it, but I've never had much of a sweet tooth."

Felicity stared at the box with a mixture of worry and temptation in her eyes. She bit her thumbnail briefly, considering, before her hand shot out past the box and clasped his chin. Stunned, he didn't even resist as she turned his face toward hers so she could look him directly in the eye. "Listen to me very carefully." Her whisper had an edge of danger that he wouldn't have thought her capable of. "There is a sacred trust in chocolate. You do not tamper with chocolate. You do not use chocolate to drug or poison unsuspecting IT specialists who are using their only Friday night off in six months to watch an action flick in a seedy theater. You do not offer chocolate unless it is an honest gesture of wanting to share the chocolately goodness with another human being." Abruptly, she released his face and sat back in her chair, eyes on the screen once more. "So long as you understand that, feel free to offer again."

Grinning at both her naiveté and the fact that she would threaten him over candy, Slade leaned down to her ear once more, inhaling deeply. She really did smell like apples. "Would you care to take this chocolate, Miss Smoak?" he offered just as the opening credits of the film began to roll.

She snatched it out of his hand so fast he briefly entertained the idea that Oliver had found a way to dose her with Mirakuru. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson. I do love chocolate."

The didn't speak for the rest of the movie. At least, not much and not directly to one another. Felicity made several comments about unrealistic computer details. In one particular fight scene Slade groaned about how many openings the supposedly battle hardened characters left for an experienced fighter to get through and kill them. The entire thing was full of mediocre writing, pointless explosions, daring stunts, and thrilling special effects. The hallucination was right. He loved it. The highlight of the film, though, was watching Felicity's reactions. She clearly enjoyed this type of movie despite her day-to-day life. They both stood as the final credits rolled, and Slade was surprised when Felicity immediately launched into another babble fest.

"Okay, so I normally always see the endings coming, but that nice little twist? Totally didn't expect that." She followed close on his heels as he made his way toward the lobby, a flood of critique falling from her mouth. "And wow was that villain hot. I mean, not that villains are hot given their not great natures, but if he'd been a good guy I could see myself jumping his bones and I really am not considering who I'm babbling at. Shutting up now."

Shaking his head in amusement, Slade stopped her with a gentle hand on her elbow once they'd stepped outside the doors. "Miss Smoak, you may 'babble' at me about anything you wish." He tilted his head toward the bar across the street. "In fact, I was wondering if you might join me for a drink."

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So, I completely invented a nameless action flick. . Don't hate me.

Also cliffhanger. Ish. Because reasons. :p


	4. Two Glasses Half Full

Gah. I am SO SORRY for the long time between updates. This chapter was a bit of a beast for me because I knew how I wanted it to start and how I wanted it to end, but the middle simply wouldn't cooperate. I hope it lives up to expectations and I thank all of you amazing people for continuing to read!

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**Part Four - Two Glasses Half Full**

Okay, so she might have made some seriously less than sane decisions in the past, but Felicity was pretty sure this one took the cake. Not only had she sat through an entire movie (and how weird was that, by the way?) with the psychopath bent on destroying Oliver Queen, but now she was sitting in a poorly lit bar in the Glades while that same psychopath bought her a drink. Granted, he hadn't exactly been behaving in a particularly psychotic manner, but given that he'd been making their lives a living hell for the last however long didn't exactly paint a first datepicture that she should be enjoying.

"That was not where that thought train should have gone," she muttered aloud.

"I beg your pardon?"

Felicity raised her head from the bar menu she'd been working very hard to look like she was studying and blinked owlishly at Slade. "Oh crap, did I say something out loud that was supposed to stay in my head?" His slightly raised eyebrow was all the answer she needed. "Sorry. I've kind of got a serious brain-to-mouth problem that I can't seem to get a lock on. Not that, you know, I'm actually apologizing to you. I don't care what you think of me because you keep trying to kill all of my friends. Well, I care that you think you don't want to kill me because not dying is a little high on my list of priorities but when it comes to my filter I really don't care if you know that I think this whole night is kinda creepy and you are way more attractive than you have any right to be with all of the evil-not that you're evil, just really content to murder, and not that evil people can't be attractive or that I think you're particularly attractive because I don't-not that you're unattractive either and I really should have just called Oliver or Diggle or ran my happy ass home or disappeared into a giant hole in the floor like I'm going to do right now."

"And here I thought I'd hallucinated that endearing little tendency," Slade muttered, clearly speaking to himself, a strange half-smile on his lips. Felicity froze, dropping her drink menu to the table and not even bothering to hide that she was staring at him. Did he just say hallucinated? Was he have hallucinations about her? Why? And why did that suddenly capture her interest in ways that it definitely shouldn't? "You're still talking out loud, love."

Thankfully, the bar's one waitress chose that moment to get their drink orders. Still wary, Felicity asked for a strawberry daiquiri, light on the rum. Slade ordered a glass of some expensive bourbon, then instructed the waitress to make sure she gave Felicity her drink first and kept it far from him. "Wouldn't want the lady to think I'm trying to slip her something," he quipped, and from the way the waitress laughed and petted his elbow like he couldn't be thought of to do such a thing he was managing to be quite charming.

Oliver Queen was charming, too, but Felicity knew better than anyone that the charm could mask some super serious danger. Really, Oliver had kind of defined the characteristic of playing up the loveable womanizer image to hide his ability to kill you in seconds for her. If this megalomaniac thought he was going to pull the wool over her eyes with his coy smiles and far too sexy accent he had another thing coming.

"What is it about my accent that American women find so appealing?"

Felicity dropped her head to the table, thumping it twice. "I've really got to get a handle on my babble." She raised her head back up, lifting her arm to jab a finger in his general direction. "That is not a conversation we are going to have. You asked me for drinks and I don't think for an instant that you don't have some ulterior motive in doing so, so if we're going to talk about anything it is first going to be why you sat next to me through an entire movie, gave me chocolate, and then asked me out to a bar when you've been systematically attempting to destroy the lives of a lot of people I care about."

To her shock-and it really was quite a shock-Slade actually looked a little sheepish. It completely transformed him. Gone was the false confidence he'd used on the waitress and absent was the hardness in his face that said he was a cold murderer. If she didn't know any better (and she was pretty sure she knew better, but with the way this night was going there wasn't any way to be positive), she would think he was any other guy on an attempt at a first date. Granted, he was a large mass of muscle missing an eye, but no matter their personality there was a look guys got and she'd seen it happen to other girls enough to recognize it.

The waitress returned with their drinks, ensuring the both of their silence for a few moments longer. Slade toyed with his, taking a short sip and then studying the two neat ice cubes floating in the amber liquor. Finally, he set it back down, focusing his full attention on her. After dealing with Oliver for so long, Felicity was used to such intense stares, but something about his caused her toes to tingle.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I hadn't planned to run into you," he admitted, "and there really was nothing more to the chocolate than my not wanting it. As for the drinks..." he trailed off into a non-committal shrug, suddenly finding his bourbon very interesting. "I wanted to hear you talk."

Silent tension overtook the table. Slade was still gazing into his drink while Felicity's mind raced at speeds that were almost foreign to her. Wasn't that a nice surprise? Speechless was not something she spent a lot of time being, and here she was, speechless.

"Flabbergasted," she blurted. Slade finally looked up at her, one eyebrow lifted in question. "That's the word. For what my brain is feeling. I mean, not flabbergasted because of you but flabbergasted because of what you said. No one wants to hear me talk. Or, at least, if they do want to hear me talk it takes all of five minutes before they're ready for me to shut up. This isn't how it works, and certainly not with somebody that, as I keep saying, keeps trying to kill my friends."

Slade sighed, the sound full of resignation and something that Felicity actually thought might be hurt. That couldn't be right, though, because he just didn't seem the type to get hurt. Least of all by her.

"Miss Smoak, I have no call to ask anything of you, so I rather expect that you're going to say no. However, I would like to ask you something." He gave her a questioning look, and before she knew it she was giving him a tiny nod, curiosity willing him to go on. "While I realize that we have a very serious elephant hovering in the form of my motivations regarding Oliver Queen, could you possibly find it within yourself to have the rest of this drink with me as though we are just two people who met at a theater and sought to continue a conversation? Possibly like a pair of normal adults without strange nighttime activities?"

A very large part of her screamed that the suggestion was absolutely ludicrous. Actually, that was pretty much all of her, but there was that tiny bit of her brain that had seen a man nervous on a date. That tiny part suddenly seemed louder than everything else put together, and before she quite realized that she'd agreed Felicity was already turning the conversation back to the movie they'd just seen, babbling through an analysis of character motivations. Slade joined the conversation quickly, adding his own thoughts about the fight choreography, and laughing as she quipped about what could be construed as sexual tension between two of the manly-straight-men in the film. The laugh transformed him even more than the sheepish expression had, and for the rest of their drinks Felicity actually forgot who he was and why he was supposed to set her on edge.

She hadn't driven to the theater since she lived only two blocks away, and when he found out Slade insisted on walking her home. By then the talk had turned from the movie to the strange world of business politics that they both had found themselves in, and Felicity was pleasantly surprised to find that they both shared a disdain for the masks of niceties that came with the territory. Several times his stories of boardroom faux pas made her laugh, the sound ringing off the nearby buildings.

Soon enough they stood at the door of her townhome, and the realization that she'd spent an actually pleasant evening in the company of the enemy came crashing down around her. Questions swirled to the forefront of her mind, the most prominent one being 'why?', but the vision of him staring at his drink while admitting to wanting to listen to her silenced them. Others danced up to take their place-everything from what his plans were to things he could have done and hadn't-but before she could open her mouth he grasped her hand. Looking down, she found it completely dwarfed in his much larger one, her pale skin and pastel blue fingernails standing out in stark relief against his tan, calloused palm. He cradled her hand as though it were a baby bird, the light pressure something she wouldn't have thought someone with Mirakuru in their veins capable of.

"Thank you, Miss Smoak," he practically whispered. "This has been an evening for which I am entirely unworthy." Very slowly he lifted her hand, bending forward to meet it halfway as he placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. As he lowered her hand again, he pressed it between both of his own and her fingers latched onto the stiff card in his palm of their own accord. He backed away from her and made his way down the steps, heading back the way they'd come. The card, she discovered, was a sharp business card with his name and several means of contact, but the number scrawled on the back matched none of them. Briefly, she wondered when he'd had time to do that.

His strides were slow as he moved away from her, and all of Felicity's questions came bubbling back. There were dozens that plagued her. Out of all of them, though, was one that kept cycling back. One that had been bothering her since the day Oliver stormed into the foundry in a panic after a conversation with his little sister about how she'd made it home the night Roy staged their break-up.

She had to ask.

"Hey, Slade?" He turned back to her, one hand tucked into his pocket. "Why didn't you kidnap Thea? You had the perfect chance."

He looked down, that same quirky half-smile crossing his lips before his eye found hers. One shoulder shrugged, and nothing but open honesty radiated from his face. "I thought it might upset you if I did."

Felicity still stood there, gaping, long after he'd turned the corner and disappeared.

* * *

Oh, and surprise! Switch to following Felicity. XD For the next part we'll be back in Slade's head, but I just knew the bar trip wouldn't work from his POV.


	5. Revelation

The original title of this chapter was "Internal Cat Fight". I had intended for a post-movie-and-drinks Slade to have to deal with battling hallucinations of Felicity and Shado, further complicating his internal crazy. Slade, it seems, had other ideas. Thus, this. A fair bit angstier than this story has been so far.

* * *

**Part Five: Revelation**

"You've forgotten me."

The sound of her voice alone was enough to spasm every muscle in his body. He'd thought she'd gone, his penance repaid. "I could never forget you." Nothing was ever that easy. "Not even if I wanted to try."

He turned from the small window in his room and found her standing barely two feet from him. Long black hair cascaded over her back, and the same fatigues she'd been wearing on the island were slung low about her hips. "She's pretty, you know," she told him, hands tucked carefully behind her back. "I won't bother denying that, but I doubt she can even throw a decent punch. We both know your type is the fighting type." Defeat raced through him, his shoulders drooping, but something tiny began to burn in the pit of his stomach. "A woman who can't survive on her own?" She snorted. "Useless to you."

Slade could neither shake the burning sensation nor figure out what was causing it. "Why are you here, Shado?" he growled, all too aware that his words were an echo of those he'd spoken to his brain's version of Felicity Smoak.

The look she gave him could have melted steel, hard and angry. "You know exactly why, Slade." Her voice was more of a snarl than he could ever remember it being when she was alive. "You made a vow. Payment for the loss of my life. Is going for drinks with that dim witted blonde really going to help you fulfill it?"

The burning sensation raced from the pit of his stomach straight to his throat, roaring with indignation. "Don't talk about her like that," he growled. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he found himself shocked at their existence. For the last five years, he had seen and spoken to Shado many times. Never once had he questioned her. Never had he directed anything but love, sorrow, or promises at her. When he finally got the courage to look up, her eyes were full of anger.

"You claim to love me, and yet you can speak to me like that?" She prowled across the room until she was practically standing on his toes. "Younever loved me."

He closed his eye, unable to look at her in such a state. Unbidden, memories of the island came pouring back. Shado taking him to the mats in a sparring bout. Her smile beneath the shade of the trees. Full of despair after the death of her father. Fearsome in battle. Speaking softly to him while she treated his extensive burns. Her naked body wrapped around Oliver's at the river, cracking his heart in two.

Then, like a whisper beneath howling winds, he remembered the words she'd spoken to Oliver before the intimacy that he shouldn't have been there to see. "Everyone has a demon inside of them." she'd insisted. " The 'dao de jing' recognizes the yin and the yang, opposing forces inside all of us. The darkness and the light. The killer and the hero." His Shado, the one whose lifeless body he'd cradled so soon after awakening with the Mirakuru coursing through his veins, was not a woman of cruelty. The burning still swirling through his chest? He finally recognized it. Rebellion. Rebellion against the fabrications of his own overwrought mind.

"I loved you, Shado," he breathed, his face screwing up as he fought to keep his eye closed. "More than you ever knew. More than I even admitted to." Her bright smile on the film reel he'd stolen lit up the back of his eyelid, a softness that he'd used to fuel his rage. Now, his chest ached with the shame of letting that rage consume him. He opened his eye, staring down into hers. "You were the brightest and most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. Lethal, but so aware that being lethal didn't mean being a killer. You had the will to survive, but you never would have sacrificed humanity so completely." Tears streaked down his face, his voice growing rough. "I loved you. The real you. Whatever Shado has been talking to me for so long is not the woman I loved."

Slowly-ever so slowly-she backed away from him. She drifted into the shadows of the room, and, finally, disappeared entirely. Turning his back on where she'd been, Slade strode from the room. He didn't bother to redress in his suit. He didn't bother to put on shoes. With nothing but defeat in his gait, Slade Wilson wandered out into the darkness of Starling City.

* * *

At half past four in the morning, Felicity Smoak came awake with a jolt, her heart racing as she recognized the blurrily familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Oliver and the others may have thought she was joking about the kangaroos, but perfectly innocent marsupials didn't invade your dreams to eat your face and shove you in that creepy little pouch. At least, she assumed that perfectly innocent marsupials wouldn't do that. If, you know, perfectly innocent marsupials happened to exist.

Personally, she was pretty sure that they didn't. Exist, that is.

She fumbled on her nightstand for her glasses, settling them on her nose and pushing herself up to a sitting position. Once upright, she immediately froze. On the hope chest at the foot of her bed, his back to her and his shoulders bowed beneath a simple white a-shirt, was Slade Wilson. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream.

"I'd really prefer it if you didn't."

Brain-to-mouth filter: useless upon waking. "I think I can manage not to scream since you totally had the opportunity to make me while I was lying sprawled out on the bed and blind. Make me scream that is. By murder-y actions. Not that I'm thinking you'd make me scream any other way. I mean, I'm sure you could, but I'm definitely not thinking like that and I shouldn't even bring that up and I just woke up, so let's just pretend that none of that came out of my mouth and get back to you telling me why you're in my bedroom in the middle of the night."

Slade's shoulders gave a little shake, and instinct told her that it wasn't from laughter. When he finally offered her an explanation, his voice was much rougher than she remembered, tempered by exhaustion and something that sounded like grief. "I didn't have anywhere else to go," he whispered.

Slowly, carefully, she eased her way up out of the bed and crept around him, happier than she'd ever been that she'd chosen to sleep in modest shorts and a tank. She gave the man a wide berth, mindful that, no matter how much of a gentleman he'd been earlier that evening, he was still insanely dangerous. Sure, he might not be in a killing mood right now, but if being around Roy had taught her anything it was that Mirakuru enhanced emotional instability. Once she was standing in front of him, Felicity felt her mothering instincts come careening to the surface. He looked, for lack of a better description, completely broken. His feet were bare, and though she couldn't see any open wounds in the dim light of the nearby street lamp coming through her window (really, like he'd still have wounds with the super juice) she was pretty sure the dark shadows on them were actually dried blood.

"Do you... want to talk?" she asked. "I don't have to talk. I've been told that I'm pretty good at listening." Clearly, she was losing her mind. First a movie, then drinks, and now encouraging conversation in her bedroom at an insane hour of the night. She might as well call ahead to Arkham in Gotham and reserve her room.

His shoulders gave another shake as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands. "No one's ever asked me to talk about it." The admission was so faint that Felicity thought she might have imagined it, and when it sank in that she hadn't it nearly broke her heart. "On the island there was only the rage and the pain and actions to take." He drew in a shuddering breath, and she stayed rooted to her spot, absorbing every word. "Shado... she was the most beautiful creature I ever saw. She'd been through so much and she still saw the light in things. I hated Oliver so much for having her, and then for not choosing to save her." Slade's voice broke, and his next words were little more than sobs. "Ivo never would have caught them if they hadn't been trying to save me. If Shado hadn't insisted that they save me. All these years I've been plotting to make the kid pay, but... I'm the reason she's gone."

Felicity's heart broke for him all over again as he began to shake in earnest, grief and guilt wracking his muscular frame. This was something that she understood. Gone was the psychopath who'd been seeking blood and vengeance. At the foot of her bed sat a man who'd come to hate himself more than anyone else that he'd at one point chosen to blame. Her steps toward him were more confident than cautious this time. She might be naive, but she'd come to learn that no man could fake the heartsick pain that she could feel radiating from Slade in waves.

Her hand brushed across his shoulder before sliding onto his back as she bent to wrap him in an awkward hug. His arms shot forward, snaking around her back and pulling her forward until he could bury his face in her stomach. She ran her fingers comfortingly through his hair, amazed that he still had the presence of mind to control his own crushing strength. They stayed like that for a long time, Felicity murmuring soothing nothings while Slade-and she was going to write this off as a dream in the morning-cried. Finally, his breathing began to slow, the sorrow lessening its grip enough that Felicity could pull back and coax him to look up at her. There was a question in his face, the same 'why would you do this?' that she'd seen so often on Oliver's.

Before he could voice it, Felicity ran one hand through his hair. "Come on," she whispered gently. "This definitely calls for cocoa."


	6. The Friendly Ear Effect

Before we jump into the chapter, there are a couple of things I wanted to say. First, I can't (and won't) take credit for coming up with the "Deathsmoak" name. I found it on tumblr and nearly wet my pants at how perfect it was. XD Second, most of the Deathsmoak fics that are out there eventually end up as Olicity. I want to let everyone know ahead of time that this story? Yeah, it's not going in that direction. I don't dislike Felicity with Oliver, but this story is not about them in a romantic way.

Finally, I love all of you! You've been so wonderful with your reviews, and I honestly cannot thank you enough. Enjoy!

* * *

**Part Six: The Friendly Ear Effect**

At her computers beneath Verdant, Felicity could not sit still. Every molecule in her body was on edge. She sucked at keeping secrets from her friends, but no one in their right mind would share what she'd been through that morning. The way that Sara and Oliver kept attacking the training dummy while ranting about Slade really wasn't helping. When she'd left to go do her Arrow duties, the one-eye Australian had been asleep on the floor of her living room with his head tilted back against her couch.

She was fully aware of exactly how weird and wrong and utterly insane it was that she hadn't taken the rest of the team home to put him out of his misery.

But... he'd been so human. Human in the same way that she knew Oliver was human whenever that weird tough guy thing cracked and he let all of his emotions come rolling out onto the surface-and, consequently, her brain because he had this magic way of only doing that when she was there to listen. Maybe that was why Slade had decided to come to her. Somehow, Felicity's body emitted supersonic waves attracting the emotionally unstable and distraught. It was doubly effective if they'd been trapped on an island for an indeterminate amount of time. Even Sara had started coming to her. If more random Island Survivors started showing up, she could moderate their support group.

The Friendly Ear Effect. That's what she was going to start calling it. And her desk at the community center where she moderated Island Survivors Nowhere Near Anonymous-ISNNA, now that could actually have a ring to it-would have a nifty little nameplate with "Felicity Smoak: Weird Emotional Issues Counselor Extraordinaire" on it. It would all be perfect.

"Felicity!" She jumped and swung her arm in an arc all at once when Oliver's voice sounded loudly in her ear. He caught her wrist inches before she would have smacked him in the face and looked down at her with that irritating single eyebrow raised. How did he manage to convey so much with one barely altered expression anyway? "Have you listened to anything we've been saying?"

"Umm..." Felicity bit her bottom lip. This was going to be a moment of truth. _You can do this,_ she assured herself. Because reassuring yourself always means that it's going your way. In a perfect world where super villains don't join you for movies, ask you to drinks, then appear all broken at the foot of your bed for a nice rant session. "I pretty much tuned it out as another 'Oliver and Sara rant about Slade' thing. That's what it was, right?"

Oliver closed his eyes, breathing out harshly through his nose. "He's a dangerous man, Felicity." And that was the patented Oliver Queen Disappointed Voice. "You can't afford to tune these conversations out. It might be you that he comes after next, showing up at your house with murder in mind."

She shuddered, but from the back of her brain came Slade's words at the theater. _There are thousands of people in this city. You are the one that I least want to die._ She had absolutely no reason to, but she trusted those words. Cocking her head to one side, she stared directly up into Oliver's eyes. "If Slade Wilson wanted to kill me, Oliver, I would already be dead." She made it to a silent count of four before the muscle in Oliver's jaw stopped twitching. He opened his mouth-probably to lecture her on The Dangers and such-but she cut him off first. "I'm not exactly the best on defense, and I'm clearly not the most important person on this team. He'll leave me for last at the very least. Now, I woke up at four thirty this morning after kangaroos tried to eat my face and I never got back to sleep after that so I'm insanely exhausted." All of a sudden, anger welled up inside of her. Talk of her nightmare sent visions of the main reason she hadn't gone back to sleep straight to her brain. _No one's ever asked me to talk about it._ She couldn't help but be a little mad at Oliver now. He'd been so close to Slade that they'd called each other brother, but when things got bad...

"You know what?" she snapped, coming abruptly to her feet and sliding one arm through the strap of her purse. "I was going to tell you that I'm too tired for a lecture so we really needed to just get on with whatever vigilante club business we had for the night, but I think I'm actually too tired for any of it."

"Felicity," Oliver started, reaching one hand toward her as she stepped back into her heels. She dodged, shuffling around her chair with both hands raised.

"Nope. I am clearly in grumpy Felicity mode, and that means that certain angsty super heroes should just spend their evening jumping off of buildings and taking down whatever petty thieves are bothering with crime on this delightful Saturday." Backing toward the door, Felicity gestured at the lighted monitors of her baby. "If your mortal enemy should do something more nefarious than offering your little sister a ride home, I'm sure the alerts I've piggybacked on all of his aliases will let you know. Don't bother sending anybody to watch over my place because we all know there are better things for each of you to be doing than staking out my apartment on the off chance that the Evil Aussie from Hell decides to swing by and put a sword through my neck because reasons."

Felicity was halfway to her apartment when the anger fuel abruptly dissipated. She'd be lucky if Oliver didn't beat her home, find the object of his dizzying concern, and challenge Slade to a fight that would level the entire block. Her insurance did not cover vigilante battles, and she'd just gotten the living room arranged the way she wanted it. Preferring not to risk it, she dug her phone out of her purse and dialed Sara's number. The other blonde had barely managed a breathless 'hello' before Felicity started to babble.

"Oliver's not already careening towards my place is he? Not that I have anything to hide, because that would be silly since my life's an open book, but I could really just use a glass of wine and to sleep for a decade and I can't do that if I'm going to panic all night that he's going to come through my window all Arrow-y to lecture me and-"

"Calm down," Sara cut her off. "He's taking his frustrations out on the salmon ladder." The familiar clang of the metal bar soothed Felicity more than the words. "It was touch and go for a few minutes, but Digg and I managed to convince him that you're just overstressed and need some normal rest." There was a brief pause, and Felicity could hear Sara moving through the foundry, the sounds of the workout equipment fading as she retreated toward the stairs. "Is there something you're not telling us, Felicity?"

Sara didn't so much press the panic button as she sent it into overdrive. "What could I possibly not be telling you? I mean, there are a ton of things that I haven't told you like the time I snuck into the freezer in the middle of the night and ate three gallons of ice cream and had a tummy ache for a week but I didn't think that stories of my sugar high childhood were really the type of things that I needed to share. I could probably write a book about all of those but no there's nothing outside of those things that I'm hiding. Not that I'm hiding them. I just didn't think they were important and I said that already so counting back to make myself breathe."

A tiny huff of laughter preceded Sara's response. "I didn't mean childhood stories. It's just-" Her voice dropped lower, giving the distinct impression that she was making sure Oliver and Diggle couldn't hear her. "You sounded really _sure_ that Slade wasn't going to come after you. Sure like you had some way of knowing." Sara faded into silence again as Felicity pulled up outside of her townhome. The living room light was on, and she knew she hadn't left it that way earlier. "You know, you can trust me, Felicity." A tiny shuffle crossed through the line as Sara switched the phone to her other ear. "If you want me not to tell them, I won't. But trust me when I say I know from experience how badly you just need someone to talk to about things."

"I..." Felicity couldn't form the words. She couldn't see any shadows of movement through the drawn curtains, but having the light on meant that she definitely couldn't write off Slade's appearance as a dream. She really had left him asleep on her floor.

"Look," Sara continued, "I know we all come to you a lot, and it's not fair that every one of us dumps our grief on you without hesitation. All I'm trying to say is that whatever might be going on with you, I'm willing to listen. I'm even willing to try not to swear at you for being an idiot if that's what I think you're doing."

Felicity snorted, thinking about how purple Sara's face would turn if she told her everything. The other woman had a point, though. Sara was good at keeping secrets. If anyone on the team could be trusted not to spill the beans about the Slade Wilson Abnormality Train, it would be the former assassin. "Do you think we could get them to let us have a girl's night tomorrow?" she asked after a very long time. "You and me at my place where I've got the frequency jammers against bugs and several good bottles of wine?"

Sara laughed. "They'll let us," she assured her. "Whether they let us voluntarily or I have to convince them on the mats will be a great story to start the evening. Your place at seven? Need me to bring anything?"

"Seven sounds great. Depending on your feelings on wine, you might want to bring more. We'll just order in a pizza or something." Plans finalized, she and Sara hung up, and Felicity gathered her wits to face the imminent disaster waiting in her apartment. She braced herself for attack as she let herself inside. None came. Moving through the apartment at a cautious pace found it completely empty of Slade, but he'd left something behind in her kitchen.

Dead center on the counter was an enormous bouquet of tiger lilies, already situated in the one vase she owned. The dishes she'd left in the sink from the early morning cocoa and the awkward meals afterwards were no longer there. A quick glance through her cabinets found them clean and in their proper places, a used dish towel folded neatly over the rim of the sink. Beside the vase of flowers was a single sheet of paper folded once and covered in a spiky black scrawl.

_ Miss Smoak,_

_ Words cannot convey my thoughts toward you for your kindness. I hope you'll accept flowers and a clean kitchen in place of what I fail to express. The tiger lilies reminded me of you. I also installed a timer on your living room lights. Statistically speaking, homes with lights on tend to deter robbers at night._

_ Yours,_

_Slade Wilson_

Gaping at the note, Felicity's brain was buzzing. She hadn't exactly expected him to still be around when she got home, but she certainly hadn't expected flowers and increased security either. A comfortable warmth spread through her, faintly coloring her cheeks, as she stared at the vibrant orange flowers. He'd said they reminded her of him. A lightbulb popped on in her head and she up-ended her purse on the counter. Bits of tech, trash, and make-up scattered, but it took her only seconds to sift through them for the card he'd given her after he'd walked her home. The card in one hand and her phone in the other, she made her way over to her couch, flopping on the cushions as she tapped out a message.

_ Beautiful. How did you know that tiger lilies are my favorite?_


	7. They're Admiration Flowers, Felicity

I am not entirely convinced that I did a good job writing Sara. I like to think of her as the type that will listen to a friend's full story before making a judgement call, which is my explanation for her behavior here. Either way, I'm actually really happy with the way this chapter turned out. :)

* * *

**Part Seven: They're Admiration Flowers, Felicity**

"Whoa," Sara commented as she made her way into Felicity's kitchen. Her eyes had caught on the huge bouquet of tiger lilies sitting on the counter. "That's some admirer you've got, Felicity."

The tech guru went from sweet and happy to a nervous wreck all at once. "Oh," she stammered, wide eyes traveling from Sara to the lilies and then to the bottle of wine she'd pulled out. She threw herself into opening it as though her life depended on it. "They're not from an admirer. I never have admirers. Not, you know, that I'm one of those pathetic people that lays on their couch every night sobbing into ice cream over not having admirers-I've only done that once, I swear, and with mint chocolate chip I fully believe that no one should be able to blame me-and people that do that aren't pathetic. I didn't mean that. Just that I'm not like that and the flowers were just here and-" Felicity cut herself off as the cork popped free. "Wine's open! Big glass for you? I'm going to have a big glass."

Sara's eyebrows crept toward her hairline as Felicity fumbled two large wine glasses out of her cupboard, filling them nearly to the brim. She was positive that the other blonde was hiding something now, but given that stream of babble she decided not to press until there was at least one glass of wine in her. It was probably a good thing that Oliver had sent a box of twelve bottles along with her 'just in case.' At least there was no danger of them running out.

Felicity turned toward her, flashing and unsure smile and holding out one of the glasses. "This is a 'bad day and Firefly got cancelled' size glass. I hope you don't mind, but I really do need to chill out and lots of wine is usually the best way to start that."

Accepting the glass, Sara shook her head with a smile. "That's entirely what tonight is supposed to be about." She rolled her shoulders and slid onto one of the brightly upholstered bar stools at the counter. "We're going to pretend that vigilante activities are normal life things, eat pizza, drink lots of wine, and talk like normal girls do." She made sure to catch the other woman's eye. "And none of the boys will ever be told a single word of what we talk about from either of us."

The look Felicity gave her was exactly what Sara imagined a very bad person who'd been given forgiveness at confession would give the priest. She bit her lip, briefly looking everywhere in the kitchen but at her guest. Finally, she turned her glass up and downed every drop of wine she'd poured in it. Felicity refilled the glass, turned back to Sara, and blurted the exact last thing the Arrow's girlfriend had expected to hear.

"I think I went on a date with Slade Wilson."

Sara blinked once, twice, thrice, and downed her own glass. Sliding it across the counter, she pushed herself up from the stool and reached for her phone. "Top me off and open another bottle while I order the pizza. This sounds like a story for many bottles, and we should make sure food's on the way while we're still coherent."

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. He _cried_? Are you sure you weren't still dreaming?"

Red wine sloshed over the rim of Felicity's glass as she gestured violently, several droplets falling on the cardboard pizza box between them. "That's what I thought!" she exclaimed, taking a bite from the slice of pepperoni she held in her other hand. "But it was real!" Shoving one hand in her pocket, she produced the note she'd found next to her flowers. "I know it was real because he left this with the lilies!"

Snatching the note unsteadily, Sara read it over three separate times before she actually absorbed the words. Finally, she passed it back, narrowing her eyes as the took another large mouthful from her own glass. "I thought you said the flowers weren't from an admirer?"

Her face growing steadily more red, Felicity began to sputter. "Flowers for lending a friendly ear do not mean admiration!" she insisted, indignant. "Oliver, Diggle, and Roy could learn a thing or two and get me flowers for all the times I listen to their shit!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she caught herself swearing, but a fit of giggles escaped and distracted her.

"Tomato, to-mah-to," Sara muttered. "What happened next?"

She listened raptly as Felicity explained the whole of her morning and afternoon with Slade, starting at mugs of cocoa shared at the kitchen table. The very thought of that man sipping cocoa and talking about his feelings caused Sara's eyes to gloss over, and she nearly missed the shocking revelation that he'd not only eaten the eggs and turkey bacon Felicity made for breakfast but had insisted on paying for take out to be delivered when her stomach rumbled around lunchtime. "-and then I told him that maybe we should watch a movie to take his mind off of everything and we threw in The Avengers and I was telling him all about how he kinda reminded me of The Hulk and then I looked over and he was asleep. Just sitting upright right over there, leaning against the couch, and sound asleep." Felicity bit her lip, frowning into her wine. "Villains aren't supposed to be adorable when they sleep."

"Neither are angst-ridden vigilantes, but Oliver makes little spit bubbles like a cute baby sometimes," Sara admitted with a snort. "So, what then? You went to the foundry, came home, and he left you flowers?"

"Not just the flowers, Sara." Felicity leaned forward, her gaze conspiratorial. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He cleaned the frickin' kitchen." She downed her glass again, reaching out to refill it with the bottle resting on the far end of the pizza box. Nothing emerged when she moved to pour. "We need more wine."

Gathering their feet unsteadily beneath them, both women wobbled toward the kitchen. Sara regained her perch at the counter while Felicity moved into the kitchen for a fresh bottle and a corkscrew. Idly, she reached out and stroked a finger along the petals of one of the lilies. "Felicity, these are Admiration Flowers," she insisted. "Flowers of liking you-ness and wanting to take all of your clothes off and do dirty things like Oliver and I do in the lair."

"First, eww, I work in that lair and please don't ever give me details and if I find out the two of you have done the nasty on my desk I will end the both of you in ways that only a technical genius like myself c-can." Felicity hiccupped the last word, her nose scrunching up as she tilted their fourth bottle of wine over each of their glasses in turn. "Second, they are not!"

Sara took another long drink of wine and pointed at her friend. "They so are. He even said in that note that they reminded him of you."

"Lots of things remind people of me. I've got one of those personalities. Besides, if he meant them as liking me flowers he would have said something when we were texting after I got home." Felicity realized what she'd said a fraction of a second too late, eyes darting to where her phone rested on the floor beside the pizza boxes.

She'd never make it before the ex-assassin, but she had to try.

* * *

Slade was sitting on his bed, still trying to process the events of the previous day, when one of his phones began to buzz on the nightstand. He didn't bother to suppress the faint smile that crossed his lips when he saw Felicity's name on the screen. He thumbed open the message, read it, read it again, and frowned.

_ need help. my place. asap_

It wasn't a question of whether or not he was going to answer her plea. No, he was already lacing on his boots. What worried him was how unlike Felicity the message seemed. In the texts they'd exchanged over the last day-slightly comical, blissfully normal texts-she had always been very proper in her grammar and capitalization. This message, however urgent, didn't read like it was written by her, and that worried him. Without bothering to respond he slipped the phone into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and jogged to his car out in the lot.

Of all the dire situations he'd imagined on the entirely too long drive, nothing could have prepared him for what he found at Felicity's townhome. A loud giggle and a muffled 'it's open' answered his knock on the door. Turning into the living room, his eye widened in shock at the sight before him. Several empty bottles of wine lay strewn across the floor. An empty pizza box lay in the middle of it like a shrine. Turning to his left, he finally spotted Felicity, sprawled on her stomach on the couch with another bottle of wine dangling from her fingers. Sara Lance had made herself a wobbly seat on Felicity's backside, clutching a bottle of her own in one hand and Felicity's phone in the other.

"Slade!" Sara called throwing her arms up and listing dangerously to one side. Felicity wriggled beneath her to take a swig from her bottle before twisting her head to grant Sara a glare.

"I will utterly decimate your already questionable finances," she slurred.

Sara snorted. "Oh hush," she huffed before turning her attention back to him. "Now, Slade, tell my friend here-" and there she patted Felicity's thigh as though he might not know who she meant, "-that those beautiful flowers you left her and the drink and the lunch and, what was I saying?" She frowned at her bottle before suddenly seeming to grasp her fuzzy thoughts. "Yeah! Tell her that all that means you like her. She won't listen to me."

If Lian Yu had been Purgatory, this might actually be hell.


End file.
